C.S. Lewis as Evangelist

Dr. Michael Gleghorn provides an insightful examination of how legendary Christian author C.S. Lewis used his writing to invite his readers to put their faith in Jesus Christ.

Lewis and Evangelism

“C. S. Lewis never invited unbelievers to come to Jesus. He was a very successful evangelist.” So begins Michael Ward’s essay “Escape to Wallaby Wood: Lewis’s Depictions of Conversion.” Ward follows up this provocative comment with others like it. For example, “Einstein failed his entrance exam to the Federal Polytechnic. He was a very successful physicist.”{1} What is Ward wanting us to see here?

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While he recognizes that his initial statement about Lewis needs some qualification, he’s nonetheless put his finger on something very important about Lewis’s evangelistic style. For while Lewis had a heart for evangelism, and desired to see men and women surrender their lives to Christ, he’s not the sort of person one would typically think of when hearing the term “evangelist.” One might readily describe Lewis as a Christian apologist or imaginative storyteller, a literary scholar or skillful debater, but “evangelist” would probably not top the list. Nevertheless, it’s important to remember that Lewis engaged in evangelistic activity in a variety of ways. While he was certainly not a “preaching” or “revivalistic” sort of evangelist, he was a “very successful evangelist” all the same.

Philip Ryken has helpfully described Lewis as a “teaching evangelist,” a “praying evangelist,” and a “discipling evangelist.” Most important of all, however, he refers to Lewis as a “writing” or “literary evangelist.” And this is surely correct, for Lewis’s greatest “evangelistic impact” has been felt through his books and essays.{2}

Not long before his death, Lewis was interviewed by Sherwood Wirt of the Billy Graham Evangelistic Association. When asked if the aim of Christian writing (including his own writing) was to bring about an encounter between the reader and Jesus Christ, Lewis responded by saying, “That is not my language, yet it is the purpose I have in view.”{3} Moreover, in his “Rejoinder to Dr. Pittenger,” Lewis frankly confesses that most of his popular Christian books “are evangelistic” in character, and addressed to those outside the Christian faith.{4}

Of course, Lewis was not merely a “literary evangelist.” While such terminology captures the fundamental way in which Lewis shared his faith, it was certainly not the only way. Moreover, evangelism was not something Lewis did simply because he enjoyed it. He felt an obligation, even a burden, to make Christ known to others.{5} And as we’ll see later, these evangelistic concerns and motivations came with a very real cost to Lewis in terms of his professional career and friendships.{6}

The Significance of Lewis’s Conversion

If there’s one thing Lewis makes clear about his own conversion, first to theism and then to Christianity, it’s that he felt himself to have been pursued by God and drawn into relationship with Him. While in one sense he saw his conversion as arising from a “wholly free choice” on his part, he also saw it as resulting from a kind of Divine necessity.{7} Lewis makes this clear in his spiritual autobiography, Surprised by Joy.

Consider the description of his conversion to Theism: “You must picture me alone in that room in Magdalen, night after night, feeling, whenever my mind lifted even for a second from my work, the steady, unrelenting approach of Him whom I so earnestly desired not to meet.” Eventually, Lewis tells us, he “gave in, and admitted that God was God, and knelt and prayed,” describing himself as “perhaps, that night, the most dejected and reluctant convert in all England.”{8}

Interestingly, before this, Lewis had described God as offering him “a moment of wholly free choice”—an opportunity to either “open the door or keep it shut.” He tells us that he chose to open it, but almost immediately relates that “it did not really seem possible to do the opposite.” He goes on to speculate that perhaps “necessity” is not “the opposite of freedom.”{9} All of this reveals how significant Lewis found God’s involvement in his conversion to actually be.

His conversion to Christianity is similarly, if less dramatically, narrated. He writes of feeling “a resistance almost as strong as” his “previous resistance to Theism.”{10} But having been through something similar already, the resistance was “shorter-lived.” While being driven to Whipsnade Zoo, Lewis came to believe “that Jesus Christ is the Son of God.” He once again speculates about whether this momentous event resulted from freedom or necessity and concludes that maybe the difference in such a case is inconsequential.{11}

But why is this important for a discussion of Lewis and evangelism? Because it helps us understand how Lewis (on the one hand) could work tirelessly for the salvation of others, while also (on the other) recognizing that God was so powerfully involved in the conversion of a human soul that he (i.e., Lewis) need never worry that such weighty matters depended solely on him. He could thus be a relaxed evangelist, using his gifts to point others to Christ, while also recognizing that salvation is ultimately a work of God.

The Importance of “Translation” in Lewis’s Evangelistic Work

So far, we’ve seen that the most important of Lewis’s evangelism was through his writings. Indeed, the first book Lewis wrote, after becoming a Christian, was The Pilgrim’s Regress. Published in 1933, the book bears the rather lengthy subtitle: “An Allegorical Apology for Christianity, Romanticism, and Reason.” And as with so many of the books that followed Lewis’s conversion, it was concerned to commend Christianity to others.

In 1938, Lewis published the first volume of his “Cosmic Trilogy,” titled Out of the Silent Planet.{12} In this book, Lewis communicates elements of Christian theology within the context of a science-fiction adventure story. In 1940, he published The Problem of Pain, a work of Christian apologetics concerned to address the problem of evil and suffering. As I’ve noted elsewhere, this book “attracted the attention of James Welch, the Director of Religious Broadcasting for the . . . BBC.”{13} Welch wrote to Lewis, asking if he might be willing to compose a series of broadcast talks for the BBC. Lewis accepted the invitation, and the talks he composed eventually became the first book of his now classic statement of basic theology, Mere Christianity.{14} These influential talks were delivered during the years of World War II.

In addition to these now-famous “broadcast talks,” Lewis also spoke to the men and women of the Royal Air Force during the war. Such experiences helped teach Lewis the importance (and even necessity) of “translating” Christian doctrine into terms the average layperson could readily understand. Lewis wanted to communicate Christian truth to his audience, and he realized that to do so effectively, he needed to learn their language.{15} He thus described his task as “that of a translator—one turning Christian doctrine . . . into language that unscholarly people would attend to and could understand.”{16}

It was Lewis’s skill as a “translator” that made him so successful as a “literary evangelist.” Few writers have been so effective at communicating the essential truths of Christianity to a broad, general, and often unbelieving audience, as C. S. Lewis. Indeed, Lewis placed so much importance on “translating” Christian truth into the language of the average layperson that he thought every ordination exam ought to require that the examinee demonstrate an ability to do it.{17} And in Mere Christianity (along with other works), we get a glimpse of Lewis doing this very thing.

Evangelism in Lewis’s Fiction

In discussing the evangelistic work of C. S. Lewis, we’ve seen how Lewis’s evangelistic concerns impacted his work as a popular Christian apologist. Now it’s time to consider how these same concerns find expression in his fiction. In his essay, “Sometimes Fairy Stories May Say Best What’s to be Said,” Lewis discusses a major motivation for his fictional work. He tells us:

“I wrote fairy tales because . . . I thought I saw how stories of this kind could steal past a certain inhibition which had paralysed much of my own religion in childhood. Why did one find it so hard to feel as one was told one ought to feel about God or about the sufferings of Christ? I thought the chief reason was that one was told one ought to. An obligation to feel can freeze feelings. And reverence itself did harm. The whole subject was associated with lowered voices; almost as if it were something medical. But supposing that by casting all these things into an imaginary world, stripping them of their stained-glass and Sunday school associations, one could make them for the first time appear in their real potency? Could one not thus steal past those watchful dragons? I thought one could (OOW, 37).{18}

Through his fiction, Lewis helps his readers personally experience the potency of Christian truth. Consider The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. In that story, Edmund (one of the four Pevensie children who enter Narnia through the wardrobe) initially sides with the White Witch against the great lion Aslan. The Witch has all Narnia under her spell, making it “always winter and never Christmas.”{19} In his desire to one day be king of Narnia, Edmund betrays his brother and sisters. According to the Deep Magic that governs Narnia, he thus deserves to die.{20}

But Aslan, the true king of Narnia, intercedes for Edmund, and the Witch renounces her claim on his life. The catch is that Aslan must give his own life in place of Edmund’s. This he willingly does. But like Jesus in the Gospels, death cannot hold him in its power, and he returns to life again. According to one scholar, “the desired response” to this is not so much “to believe in the vicarious suffering of Christ, but to taste it.”{21} Lewis thus used his fiction as a vehicle for evangelism, helping his readers to “taste” Christian truth in powerful (and even delightful) ways.

The “Cost” of Lewis’s Evangelistic Witness

Although Lewis was not the sort of person one would typically think of when hearing the term “evangelist,” he nonetheless had a heart for evangelism and was motivated to labor for the conversion of others. In fact, Christopher Mitchell has observed that “Lewis perceived evangelism to be his lay vocation, and the means by which he expressed this evangelistic impulse were his speaking and writing.”{22}

While Lewis was not the sort of person to preach a conventional “Come to Jesus” sort of evangelistic sermon, he was nonetheless (as Michael Ward has noted) “a very successful evangelist.”{23} When one considers the vast literary output of Lewis, so much of which had evangelistic intentions, combined with his speaking, preaching, and debating on issues of vital concern to the Christian faith, along with his many prayers for the conversion of others, and generous financial assistance rendered for the cause of Christ, it is clear that the whole tenor of Lewis’s post-conversion life was driven by a strong evangelistic impulse for the salvation of souls. And this in spite of the very costly nature of this witness.

According to Mitchell, Lewis’s evangelistic commitments fostered “ridicule and scorn . . . among his non-Christian colleagues” at Oxford.{24} Indeed, even some of Lewis’s closest friends occasionally felt embarrassed by his “zeal for the conversion of unbelievers.”{25} Many of his colleagues were scandalized by the fact that Lewis used his academic training to write popular-level books in theology and Christian apologetics. No doubt some were also jealous of his ever-increasing popularity with the general public, for Lewis had an uncanny ability to write one book after another that people actually wanted to buy and read.

So why did Lewis do it? That’s the question Mitchell asks near the end of his essay on this topic.{26} Why did Lewis persist in evangelistic writing and speaking that aroused such scorn from academic colleagues, and occasional embarrassment from friends? Mitchell suggests that it likely had something to do with Lewis’s conviction that “There are no ordinary people.”{27} Hence, while his evangelistic activities created difficulties for him, difficulties that might easily have been avoided, Lewis was convinced that bringing glory to God through the saving of human souls was “the real business of life.”{28} And whatever abuse, scorn, or discomfort this might cause him personally, he was apparently willing to endure it in order to be found faithful.

Notes
1. Michael Ward, “Escape to Wallaby Wood: Lewis’s Depictions of Conversion,” in Lightbearer in the Shadowlands: The Evangelistic Vision of C. S. Lewis, ed. Angus J. L. Menuge (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Books, 1997), 143.
2. See Philip G. Ryken, “Winsome Evangelist: The Influence of C. S. Lewis,” in Lightbearer in the Shadowlands, 62.
3. C. S. Lewis, “Cross-Examination,” interview by Sherwood E. Wirt, in God in the Dock, ed. Walter Hooper (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1970), 262.
4. C. S. Lewis, “Rejoinder to Dr. Pittenger,” in God in the Dock, 181.
5. This would seem to be implied by Lewis’s remarks in his sermon, “The Weight of Glory,” in The Weight of Glory and Other Addresses, ed. Walter Hooper (New York, NY: Macmillan, 1980), 18-19.
6. See Christopher W. Mitchell, “Bearing the Weight of Glory: The Cost of C. S. Lewis’s Witness,” in The Pilgrim’s Guide: C. S. Lewis and the Art of Witness, ed. David Mills (Grand Rapids, MI: Eeerdmans, 1998), 3-14.
7. C. S. Lewis, Surprised by Joy: The Shape of My Early Life (New York, NY: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1955), 224-25.
8. Ibid., 228-29.
9. Ibid., 224-25.
10. Ibid., 237.
11. Ibid.
12. For readers interested in reading my prior article on this book, please see Michael Gleghorn, “Smuggling Theology into Out of the Silent Planet,” Probe Ministries, October 29, 2023, probe.org/smuggling-theology-into-out-of-the-silent-planet/
13. Please see Michael Gleghorn, “C. S. Lewis, the BBC, and Mere Christianity,” Probe Ministries, April 24, 2016, probe.org/c-s-lewis-the-bbc-and-mere-christianity/
14. For a helpful discussion of all the issues and concerns surrounding these events, please see Justin Phillips, C. S. Lewis in a Time of War: The World War II Broadcasts that Riveted a Nation and Became the Classic Mere Christianity (New York: HarperCollins Publishers, 2002).
15. C. S. Lewis, “Christian Apologetics,” in God in the Dock, 94, 98.
16. Lewis, “Rejoinder to Dr. Pittenger,” in God in the Dock, 183.
17. Lewis, “Christian Apologetics,” in God in the Dock, 98-99.
18. C. S. Lewis, “Sometimes Fairy Stories May Say Best What’s to be Said,” in Of Other Worlds: Essays and Stories, ed. Walter Hooper (Orlando, FL: Harcourt Brace, 1975), 37.
19. C. S. Lewis, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe (New York: Macmillan, 1970), 16.
20. Ibid., 138-39.
21. Doris T. Myers, C. S. Lewis in Context (Kent, OH: Kent State University Press, 1994), Kindle edition, loc. 2640.
22. Christopher W. Mitchell, “Bearing the Weight of Glory: The Cost of C. S. Lewis’s Witness,” in The Pilgrim’s Guide: C. S. Lewis and the Art of Witness, ed. David Mills (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1998), 3.
23. Ward, “Escape to Wallaby Wood,” 143.
24. Mitchell, “Bearing the Weight of Glory,” 7. Note: The whole of this paragraph is indebted to Mitchell’s discussion in this chapter.
25. Ibid., 6-7.
26. Ibid., 9-14.
27. C. S. Lewis, “The Weight of Glory,” 19.
28. C. S. Lewis, “Christianity and Culture,” in Christian Reflections, ed. Walter Hooper (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1994), 14.

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The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe: Reflections on Its Meaning

Michael Gleghorn provides an overview of C.S. Lewis’s classic book for children of all ages that ought to be required reading for anyone who can read.

A Very Brief Overview

With the recent release of the movie The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, the public fascination with all things “Narnian” has once again been raised. But what are we to make of this wonderful story? What deeper truths might it contain?

In order to answer these questions, we must begin with a very brief overview of the story. Four children—Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy—are evacuated from London to the house of an old professor during World War II. Once there, they soon discover a magic wardrobe that leads to another world! First Lucy, then Lucy and Edmund, and then all four of the children find their way into the enchanted land of Narnia. The country is ruled by the White Witch, who has placed it under a spell so that it’s always winter but never Christmas.

Once in Narnia the children learn of Aslan, the great lion and true king of the country. After a long absence, he’s now returned. He will deal with the Witch, they’re told, and put everything right again. They also learn of an ancient prophecy, that when two Sons of Adam and two Daughters of Eve sit enthroned at the castle of Cair Paravel, then the Witch’s reign (as well as her life) will be over. It’s believed that the time for this must be near, since Aslan and the four children are now in Narnia.

But Edmund threatens to ruin everything. Unbeknownst to the others, on a previous visit to Narnia he’d met the Witch, eaten her food, and come under her power. Although he really knows that the Witch is bad, he nonetheless betrays his siblings, hoping the Witch will one day make him king. Knowing about the prophecy, however, she eventually decides to kill Edmund. But before she can do so, he’s rescued by forces loyal to Aslan!

Not to be outdone, the Witch then appears before Aslan, demanding the traitor’s life. Aslan acknowledges the validity of the Witch’s claim on a now repentant Edmund, but gets her to renounce it by offering to die in his place. The Witch agrees, and that night she slays Aslan on the Stone Table. She believes her rule in Narnia is now assured. But with the rising of the sun, Aslan rises from the dead! He leads his army to victory against the Witch and her forces. After personally dispatching the Witch, he installs the four children as kings and queens of Narnia, thus fulfilling the ancient prophecy.

This, in a nutshell, is the story. But did the author, C. S. Lewis, intend some deeper meaning? And if so, what is it?

The Search for a Deeper Meaning

It seems that Lewis had at least three objectives in writing his famous Chronicles. First, he simply wanted to tell a good story. And almost everyone who’s read the Chronicles will agree that he succeeded admirably here, for they’re among the best-loved books of all time. Second, Lewis also aimed at using his stories to communicate moral truth, both by precept and example. In this regard, Paul Ford observes that Lewis is something of a Christian Aesop. Like Aesop, he’s more than just a storyteller; he’s “also a moral educator.”{1} As Gilbert Meilaender notes:

Lewis . . . believes that moral principles are learned indirectly from others around us, who serve as exemplars. . . . . the Chronicles of Narnia . . . are not just good stories . . . they serve to enhance moral education, to build character. . . . To overlook the function of the Chronicles of Narnia in communicating images of proper emotional responses is to miss their connection to Lewis’s moral thought.{2}

Finally, Lewis also purposed to communicate important truths of the Christian faith by translating them into the imaginary landscape of Narnia. But here we must be careful. Lewis insisted that the Chronicles should not be read as Christian allegories. Paul Ford observes that in an allegory there are “one-to-one correspondences between philosophical or religious concepts and the characters or events or objects in a story.”{3} The Chronicles, said Lewis, are not allegories. They’re rather what he called “supposals.” He explained the difference in a letter, with special reference to the great lion Aslan:

[Aslan] is an invention giving an imaginary answer to the question, ‘What might Christ become like, if there really were a world like Narnia and He chose to be incarnate and die and rise again in that world as He actually has done in ours?’ This is not an allegory at all. . . . The incarnation of Christ in another world is mere supposal.{4}

So while the Chronicles should not be read as allegories, it’s still quite true that they’re informed throughout by Lewis’s Christian faith and imagination. They are Christian “supposals”—and Aslan is supposed to be what Christ might look like if He became incarnate in a land like Narnia.

Having discussed Lewis’s purposes in writing the Chronicles, and having seen that they do indeed contain a deeper meaning, we’re now ready to look more closely at the most famous of these: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe.

Temptation and Sin

Two of the major themes developed by Lewis are temptation and sin. By carefully weaving these into his story, Lewis is able to address issues of importance both for basic morality and for the Christian faith.

When Edmund first stumbles into Narnia through the wardrobe, he finds himself alone in a snow-covered wood. Cold, and not much liking the look of the place, he almost decides to go home when he hears the sound of bells in the distance. Shortly thereafter a sleigh comes into view, and in it sits the White Witch.

The Witch stops the sleigh and questions Edmund. She knows of the ancient prophecy that, when two Sons of Adam and two Daughters of Eve sit enthroned at Cair Paravel, then her reign (and life) will be over. When she learns that Edmund is human, she raises her wand as if she intends to turn him into stone. But she changes her mind and with feigned friendliness invites Edmund to sit in her sleigh. She asks if he would like something to eat and Edmund requests Turkish Delight (which she magically produces).

As he devours the sweets, the Witch continues to question him. She learns that he has a brother and two sisters. Together, the siblings could fulfill the prophecy that would spell her doom! But the Turkish Delight is enchanted; whoever tastes it will want more and more. Knowing this, the Witch tempts Edmund. She says that if he will bring his siblings to her house, then she will give him more Turkish Delight—something Edmund desperately wants. She also says that she would like to make Edmund a prince. And later, when she’s gone, he will even be king! So the Witch tempts him by appealing to his desire for power and pleasure.

And it works! Before Edmund returns home, “he [is] already more than half on the side of the Witch.”{5} Later, when all four siblings get into Narnia together, Edmund slips away from the others and goes to betray them to the Witch. His desire for Turkish Delight and to be king leads him to yield to temptation—and sin. It reminds one of what James says in the New Testament: “But each one is tempted when, by his own evil desire, he is dragged away and enticed. Then, after desire has conceived, it gives birth to sin; and sin, when it is full-grown, gives birth to death” (1:14-15).

Though we might not like to admit it, there’s something of Edmund in all of us. Like Edmund, we’ve all sinned (Rom. 3:23). And unless Someone intervenes who can change both us and our circumstances, then like Edmund we’re also doomed to die (Rom. 6:23; Rev. 20:14-15).

Sacrifice and Redemption

Lewis claimed that the idea for his story, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, “all began with a picture of a Faun carrying an umbrella and parcels in a snowy wood.” “At first,” he wrote, “I had very little idea how the story would go. But then suddenly Aslan came bounding into it. . . . [and] He pulled the whole story together.”{6} It’s a good thing He did. For without Aslan the traitorous Edmund would have met a very different fate than that which actually befell him.

You see, Aslan’s Father, the great Emperor-Beyond-the-Sea, put some Deep Magic into Narnia at its beginning. The Witch, who accuses Edmund before Aslan, is quite knowledgeable about this Deep Magic. “Every traitor,” she insists, “belongs to me as my lawful prey. . . . Unless I have blood as the Law says all Narnia will . . . perish in fire and water.”{7} Aslan agrees that her claim is valid.

Although it looks like Edmund is as good as dead, Aslan, in a private conversation with the Witch, gets her to renounce her claim on Edmund’s blood. It’s only later that we learn why. The great lion made the Witch an offer she couldn’t refuse. He offered to die in Edmund’s place. True to His word, He arrives that night at the Stone Table and there He is slain by the Witch.

But that’s not the end of the story. Early the next morning, as the sun peers over the horizon, the Stone Table cracks in two and Aslan is raised from the dead. He’s conquered death through an even Deeper Magic, unknown to the Witch. As Aslan explains, “Her knowledge goes back only to the dawn of Time. But if she could have looked . . . into . . . the darkness before Time dawned . . . She would have known that when a willing victim who had committed no treachery was killed in a traitor’s stead, the Table would crack and Death itself would start working backwards.”{8}

It’s a beautiful picture of substitutionary atonement. Aslan willingly lays down His life for the traitorous Edmund, thereby redeeming him from the just demands of the Law. It reminds one of what Christ did for us. Paul told the Galatians, “Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us, for it is written: ‘Cursed is everyone who is hung on a tree’” (Gal. 3:13). Just as Aslan gave up His life for Edmund, so Christ gave up His life for each of us, dying as a substitute in our place so that we might forever share in the life of God!

Reflections on the Movie

As many fans of Lewis’s classic story The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe have already observed, the movie is really quite good and well worth seeing. It is a generally faithful rendition of Lewis’s beautiful and imaginative original. Indeed the film is really at its best when it adheres most closely to the book. It was reported that at one time another group of filmmakers was planning to produce a very different version of the story. Supposedly their plan was to set Lewis’s wonderful children’s classic “in present-day Brentwood. Instead of a White Witch wooing young Edmund with Turkish Delight, a cool Californian would win him with cheeseburgers.”{9} If this is really true, we can all rejoice that such an absurd retelling of Lewis’s famous story never saw the light of day. All those involved with bringing The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe to the big screen are to be commended for adhering so closely to Lewis’s original vision.

But of course no movie is perfect, and The Lion is no exception. Possibly two of the biggest disappointments for fans of the book are the diminished role given to some of Lewis’s most important dialogue and the diminished importance of the great lion himself. For example, compared to his counterpart in the book, wise old professor Kirke has precious little to say in the movie.

Even more troubling, the extended conversation which the four children have with Mr. and Mrs. Beaver about Aslan lacks many of the Beavers’ most important declarations. Unlike the book, the movie never refers to Aslan as “the son of the great Emperor-Beyond-the-Sea.” And Mr. Beaver is also denied his famous response to Lucy’s question about whether Aslan is actually safe. “Safe?” he asks, “Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.”{10} Not only was such important dialogue cut, but as Jeffrey Overstreet noted, Aslan’s appearances are “painfully brief.” He doesn’t “have the time onscreen to earn our affection and awe the way we might have hoped.”{11}

In spite of such shortcomings, however, the movie still possesses much of the book’s magic. What’s more, it retains the crucially important themes of temptation and sin, sacrifice and redemption. Aslan still dies as a substitute for the traitorous Edmund, thereby redeeming him from the just demands of the Law. Finally, as Overstreet observed, “Those who respond to the movie’s roar by running to Lewis’s book will find Deeper Magic in its pages. Meeting them there, Lewis himself will lead them ‘further up, further in’.”{12} If the movie leads a new generation of readers to tackle this classic story, then it will indeed have served as a fitting tribute to its author.

Notes

1. Paul F. Ford, “Introduction,” in Companion to Narnia (San Francisco: Harper, 1994), xxviii.
2. Gilbert Meilaender,
The Taste for the Other (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1978), 212-13, cited in Ford, Companion to Narnia, xxxi.
3. Ford, Companion to Narnia, xxv.
4. C.S. Lewis, Letters of C.S. Lewis, ed. W.H. Lewis (New York: Harcourt, Brace & World, 1966), 283, cited in Ford, Companion to Narnia, xxv-xxvi.
5. C.S. Lewis, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe (New York: Collier Books: Macmillan Publishing Co., 1970), 39.
6. C.S. Lewis, Of Other Worlds, ed. Walter Hooper (New York: Harcourt Brace & Company, 1966), 42.
7. Lewis, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, 139.
8. Ibid., 159-60.
9. Andrew Coffin, “The Chronicles of Making Narnia,” World, December 10, 2005, 21.
10. Lewis, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, 75-76.
11. Jeffrey Overstreet, “The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe,” www.christianitytoday.com/movies/reviews/lionwitchwardrobe.html, posted December 8, 2005.
12. Ibid.

© 2006 Probe Ministries